Of Battles, Beer, and Broken Clocks
by kiranakia119181
Summary: AU. Erik stayed with Charles on the beach and they live/teach together in the Xavier Mansion. Erik objects to Charles' getting up early for first day of school prep. No alcohol involved. Fluff. Charles/Erik. SLASH  Warning: a single german swear-word
1. Chapter 1

_AU. Erik stayed with Charles on the beach and they live/teach together in the Xavier Mansion. Erik objects to Charles' getting up early for first day of school prep. A broken clock and fluff ensues. _K+ (Warnings: A german swear-word)

**HEY! I've added a new (oneshot) chapter to this, Erik's first day of teaching class, so please read and review (constructive criticism is ****always**** helpful). I'm thinking of turning this into a series of oneshots featuring Charles and Erik- tell me if you think it's a good idea! **

BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP

"Gah…" Charles' hand shot toward his alarm clock, fumbling to turn it off in the darkness.

Too late.

The clock flew up and bashed itself repeatedly against the ceiling, finally falling in a broken heap of springs on the floor. Charles sighed and punched his chronocidal bedmate in the shoulder. "Erik my friend. That was a tad bit unnecessary."

With a groan, Erik rolled over and put a pillow on his head._ Why is it still dark? Why do you have to get up while it's still dark?_

_" _Because," said Charles, catching the thought, "today is the day we start with all those new students, remember?"

_Scheisse_

"Erik! No swearing."

"How'd y'know it's a swear-word?" the man yawned and burrowed deeper into his covers, unrepentant.

"You say it often enough, idiot. Now, I'm getting up; there's a mountain of preparations to be made. You can stay here, but I expect you to replace that poor, unfortunate timepiece by tonight as well as make it to the ten o-clock lesson without being_ much_ later than your students." Charles gave Erik a peck on the neck before he maneuvered onto his wheelchair and flicked on the light, eliciting a torrent of silent cursing from the lump under the blankets.

As Charles began to wheel toward the door, his chair rose a couple inches in the air and started to hover back toward the bed. "Erik. That just isn't _fair_."

A snigger, and the chair moved a little faster.

"All right, if you're going to play dirty, then so will I."

_Charles' memories. Eleven year old Raven singing 100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall at the top of her untrained lungs. The sound piercing through Erik's brain, a high pitched, inexorable squeal. 98 bottles of beer on the wall, 98 bottles of beer…when would it end? How had Charles stood it all those years alone with Raven? 85 bottles of beer on the wall, 85 bottles of beer, take one down, pass it around, 84 bottles of beer on the wall…_

At 62 bottles, Erik broke down. The wheelchair, which had been levitating with the intentition of dumping Charles back on the bed, dropped gently to the floor.

"You win…for now."

Charles laughed and stretched out a hand to ruffle his boyfriend's hair. "Of course I do. I'm irresistible aren't I? I won't ask you to help me get dressed; the state you're in, I'm likely to meet the kids looking far more mutated than any of _them_."

Erik muttered something unintelligible, but Charles felt the affection rolling off of him like warm waves.

"See you in a bit Erik. Don't be late."

"Would I let you down?" Erik had sat up, and was gazing at him, a crooked smile on his face.

"Never."

Erik watched the capable young professor wheel away, reflecting on just how lucky he was to have Charles Xavier in his life. He remembered that moment on the beach, that moment where everything had hung in the balance between conviction and devotion. He remembered the fear he had felt as Charles fell to the sand and the warmth of the man's blood as it dripped onto his legs. He remembered the cold helmet slipping off his skull and the agonized words that had poured into his brain. "Please, Erik, please don't leave. I love you Erik. I can't bear to lose you too." He remembered, and he smiled. He had made his choice. Erik Lensherr had given up hatred, only to gain a love he had thought impossible.

But still-Charles _did _get up awfully early


	2. Chapter 2

The new class of mutant children looked expectantly up at Erik, as though they were waiting for something...oh yes...him. They were waiting for him, their teacher. He swallowed. How had he let Charles talk him into this? He couldn't teach, and his experience with little kids extended to occasionally skirting around them in public... Erik had, now that he thought about it, never even finished elementary school himself. Of course, none of that mattered to Charles. He was dead set on starting his little school and getting mutants an education come hell or high water. Which of course meant that his unfortunate boyfriend was stuck teaching languages and PE. Erik's thoughts flashed back to the day he had been 'hired'...

They were lying together on the patio lounge, Charles halfway on Erik's lap, Erik's nose buried in the telepath's chocolate colored hair.

"Erik, I have a favor to ask of you."

"Hmm?"

"The school, will you help me?"

"Of course Charles, anything you need."

Charles smiled and turned to him, kissing him lightly on the chin, "Thank you so much my friend, you have no idea what this means to me."

And then of course Erik was obliged to kiss him back and the whole speaking thing stopped for some time as their tongues were busy with other matters.

A few weeks later, Charles rolled up to him, a sheaf of papers in his hand and a manic glint in his eye. "Erik! I've drawn up some timetables for the first day, we'll have 4 kids to begin with: Scott Summers, Bobby Drake, Jean Grey, and Warren Kenneth Worthington III. I figured we'd start with only a few classes and let them get used to everything, so I'll be teaching English, Science, and what I'm calling 'mutation focus'. The older kids are getting involved too; I'm letting Hank teach math and engineering and the others will help with mutation specialties. You'll do languages and PE. And-"

Erik interrupted him "I'll be doing what?"

"Languages and PE."

"Teaching?"

Charles faltered, "Why, yes. Of course."

"Charles, I can't teach! I don't know the first thing about kids!"

"I thought you wanted to help."

"I did. Do. Anything to help you Charles, but...teaching?"

"Didn't we discuss this only a few days ago?"

Their conversation crashed back into Erik's mind: sunlight, kissing, and, damn, sleepily agreeing to do various things to which he wasn't really listening…

"Er...Charles, I was under the impression that you were looking for help in set-up and management and so forth..."

"Oh." Charles bit that ridiculously perfect bottom lip of his and looked at the floor.

Erik's resolve faltered at the sight of his friend's disappointment. The school meant so much to Charles... "I'm sorry if-"

"No, it's fine, I'll get Hank to do PE and perhaps Azazel..."

As Charles turned his chair to leave, Erik's heart melted. "Charles, wait."

"Yes?"

"I'll do it."

"If you don't want to-"

Erik smiled "Of course I want to Charles. I'll be absolutely awful, but I'll do it.

The young man's face split into a wide grin and his sapphire eyes glowed, dispelling all doubts from Erik's mind. "Thank you."

Erik pulled the wheelchair toward him and knelt down to kiss the man who had saved him in every way possible. "Anything for you mein liebe" he whispered as Charles' lips molded to his own. "Even little kids."

Standing in front of said little kids however, Erik was far less certain that he was doing the right thing. What the hell did you say to four terrified prepubescent mutants anyway?

"Are you a freak too?"

Well, problem solved. A boy with a visor-like contraption over his eyes had initiated conversation, if not, perhaps, one that Erik had been anticipating. A pang of pity shot with anger struck his heart. The kid was only what...9, 10? And already identified himself as something somehow inferior. A freak.

"You must be..." he checked the helpful little list Charles had made for him. Visor visor visor...aha! "Scott."

Nod

"I'm a mutant, yes. Like you, and like everyone else in this building." his voice grew harder. "A mutant and proud of it Scott Summers. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

The boy's stainless steel chair rattled as Erik gazed at him. "Understand?"

"Yes sir." the chair stopped moving.

Silence filled the room again and Erik feared that he had been too firm. They were so _small_ damnit. Had he scared them?

After a few moments however, one of the others piped up. "What's your mutation then?"

Erik grinned, finally appreciating Charles' fancy terminology. "Metalkinesis."

The boys looked at him blankly, but Jean Grey cocked her head and sat up straighter. "Like telekinesis?"

"Yes, with metal."

The boys still looked confused, so Erik took pity on them; he had been on the receiving end of Charles' extensive vocabulary all too often himself. "I control metal with my mind."

"Cool!"

"Can you show us?"

Obligingly, the chairs of all four children rose several feet into the air and began to rotate.

"Aaaaah!"

"Sweet!"

"Lemme down!"

The seats dropped with a thump, carrying three of the four kids down with them. One however, remained in the air as huge white wings snapped out from beneath his hoodie, flapping wildly and wreaking havoc with Erik's papers.

Blushing furiously, the boy folded his wings and dropped to the earth. "Sorry sorry sorry couldn't help it got startled..."

Erik was surprised to find himself choking back laughter. "An instinct for self preservation isn't something you need to apologize for kid." He was about to ask for the boy's name, as his list was floating somewhere among the desks, but was interrupted by the other students as they crowded around their classmate.

"Man, that was sick!"

"I wish I had wings!"

"Can you really fly?"

Warren Kensomething something the third (Erik now remembered reading his file) was grinning ear to ear and answering the excited questions of his peers, obviously delighted to be the center of so much pleasant attention. Erik wondered if anyone had ever told the boy how amazing his mutation was...judging from the dazed edge to that smile, he doubted it.

Suddenly Erik understood why his friend was so set on this school. It wasn't just that mutants needed to stick together... It was seeing these children's faces and hearing their laughter... giving them the chance to grow up not like Raven and Charles, hiding their gifts, or himself, being exploited and tortured, but being appreciated, even admired for what they were... That was Charles' vision and damn it, Erik would help make it happen.

Not that it was going to be easy.

After several minutes of trying to get the children to shut up (finally achieved by Erik yelling at them in German and threatening to strangle them with their own hoodies) everyone's name and mutation was identified and class officially began. As Erik attempted to explain why one needed languages, he heard a faint spluttering noise from outside the room.

"One moment." he stepped into the hallway and nearly ran into the wheelchair parked just out of sight of the door.

"Charles! What are you doing?"

The young professor, shaking with suppressed laughter, grinned at him. "I wanted to see how you were fairing my friend."

"Damn you Charles, how long have you been here?"

"I think I arrived about the time you started explaining that multilingual skills allowed one to do one's _business_ in foreign countries without undue notice or the need to rely on an interpreter."

"It's true!" Erik protested, remembering all the times that knowing languages had helped him to get his revenge and avoid capture afterwords…especially that one particularly bloody incident in Switzerland involving a French chauffeur and a Polish maid...

Charles, catching his thoughts, laughed even harder, then covered his mouth, "God, I really shouldn't find that funny. Erik Lensherr, you are awful, do you know that?" but he couldn't help smiling.

"You love me anyways."

"Right I do my vindictive little Nazi hunter." Charles pushed himself up to peck said Nazi hunter's jaw.

Voices from the classroom reminded them that there _were_ four unattended mutant children nearby.

"Mind you dearest," Charles whispered, "I could hear you yelling all the way from the library."

"They wouldn't be quiet! And you can't accuse me of not exposing them to the language."

"Somehow I have a feeling that their German education may be a little more...colorful than that of most students."

"Hypocrite. What kind of science teacher starts with basic genetics? I've seen those lesson plans professor, don't deny it."

"Alright Erik, you win. This is not a normal school. Just don't teach them more curses than nouns and I'll be satisfied."

"Understood professor."

"Good lord, you make me sound so old with your 'professors' Erik."

"You like it, I can see you smiling."

Charles didn't reply, instead choosing to project an image of Erik standing in front of the desk, papers all over the floor, yelling about verbs. "Who's a professor now my friend?" echoed the telepath's voice in Erik's

head. As the image turned around and bent over to search for his roster, Charles chuckled wickedly. "But a terribly attractive one nevertheless."

Erik, blushing, ended the projection by swooping down for a kiss; Charles never could concentrate on anything complicated with Erik's tongue down his throat. They broke off quickly however, aware of the fact that the kids would soon get curious as to what was keeping their teacher so long.

Suddenly Erik sobered, "Am I doing all right Charles? I have no idea what I'm supposed to say to them..."

"You're doing beautifully love, just give yourself some time."

"It kills me to see them ashamed of what they are."

"Then teach them otherwise. That's why we're here really."

"I see that now Charles. And I will. I swear to you I will."

"I know Erik." Charles smiled softly, blue eyes shining, "Now go on, they're waiting for you."

"See you after class professor."

"Same to you."

Erik turned to re-enter the room.

"Oh, and Erik?"

"Yes?"

Charles winked, "It's probably better you don't elaborate on exactly what kind of business you're referring to in your little anecdotes. We're not trying to recruit a new generation of Nazi Hunters; most people don't find them quite as sexy as I do."

Erik let the door swing shut as Charles' inescapable laughter rippled through his mind.

"What was that all about Erik?" asked Bobby (he had forbade the children to call him Mr Lensherr).

"The professor er...wanted a word with me."

"Then why are you blushing?"

"I'm not!"

"Yes you are."

"He's right! Why are you blushing?"

"You're getting even redder now."

Erik stifled a moan. Stupid observant little brats…


End file.
